A Deck Of Many Things
by Napoleon Error
Summary: Oneshot. Harry Potter, a great wizard to be, wakes up a bit early his first morning at Hogwarts. Finding a leather pouch he has never seen before, he decides to open it and play a game of cards...


**The Deck**

Harry woke up from his nightmare. He had no recollection of what it had been about, only something about turbans and Slytherin. Of course, considering this was his first night at Hogwarts and he had just gotten sorted might contribute something to it. Even when awake the words of the Hat rang in his head.

_You would do well in Slytherin._

Harry tried his best to forget that voice. He was in Gryffindor, with his only friend so far. It was just a dream. But that didn't help with the foreboding feel the nightmare had left. Looking outside, Harry saw it was still dark. First rays of light were just about to come from the eastern horizon.

He should be sleeping, there was an hour or two left before the other in the dorm would wake up and his first day at the wizard school would begin. He tried to calm down, to go back to sleep but for naught.

Then he grinned. Nightmare and rest be damned, he was at Hogwarts! He was a wizard! This would be great. With the enthusiasm only a child can have, he bounced out of his bed and quietly dressed to his robes. He would go and see what this great, magnificent castle was like.

Looking at the common room now that it was empty, he really got to take in the décor. The chairs looked comfortable, the fireplace inviting and red and gold were everywhere. He got a feeling this would come to love this place. However, he then saw something on a table near the corner. It looked like… a white leather pouch. Had it been there a minute ago? He hadn't paid attention to it then, but it was kind of noticeable on the dark wooden surface. Of course it had been there, it couldn't just appear by itself out of nowhere now could it?

Deciding to go take a look, perhaps to see who it belonged to, he seated himself by the table. The leather pouch was fairly small, just slightly too large to comfortably fit his hand. It felt old and parched but was still almost gleaming white. There was no name tag or other identifier.

Perhaps something inside it could give a clue? He decided to open it. Just to check if there was something inside to name the owner. It wasn't because of the barely perceptible itch at the back of his mind telling him to open it. It wasn't the almost lure-like call that told him it was okay if he took a look.

Opening the simple strap, he took out what was inside. It was like a deck of cards, but made from some kind of blue stone. There was a strange sigil on the back of the topmost card, one he could not make head or tails of. And quite oddly, he could not separate the thick cards.

Unbidden an almost hypnotic question came to his mind. He would have to choose; leave the deck where it was and never see it again or choose a number of cards to draw. Had he been fully cognizant or raised in a magical family, he would have immediately recognized this was not normal and put the deck down. But it was early in the morning and the question just seemed so benign, yet important. It hammered at his mind in a gentle way, filling every nook and cranny in his head. The deck and the question were all he could think of. An answer was demanded.

He might be only a child and been raised to be a timid, unnoticeable little thing. But inside him was courage and even recklessness worthy of any three Gryffindors combined. True, Slytherin cunning and patient ambition would have served him better here, but there was a reason why the Hat had not protested too much over his wish. No matter the gifts and traits possessed, it was always up to the wizard or witch to choose which ones to use. Harry had chosen courage over cunning just yesterday. He did so this morning as well.

"Three." He said softly. Unblinking, his gaze was still locked in the deck.

The deck separated into 22 different cards on two rows, all with the same strange symbol on their backs. As they lay on the table, Harry moved his hand over them. Making a choice in his mind, he tapped on the cards.

"This one." he spoke, but no sound came out. The card of deepest blue flipped over of its own accord. The face side was circled with even more of strange sigils and symbols, but it was the artistic, extremely well done image at the center which held his attention.

A woman, blinded with a cloth, sitting on grey stone with her head cast down. Her hands were bound in front of her with manacles made from the same stone she sat on and she was surrounded by a circle of eight swords sticking out of the rock threateningly. The swords were higher than she was, trapping her inside. And outside the swords and the lonely rock they circled, was the deepest black Harry had ever seen. It was almost…alive and he got the impression of barely contained hunger. The picture brought horror to his mind, a prison inside nothingness that sought to devour the inmate.

_The Void_ came an unbidden thought to his mind, naming the card he had chosen. Horror and revulsion began to fill him and panic set in, startling him out of his hypnotic state. He was halfway up from the chair and about to scream out, when he found he couldn't. He toppled to the ground, a lifelike statue made of grey stone.

On the table, the cards were still in two rows. Harry was no longer able to see them or choose from them, but the magic would not be denied. Three cards had been called out, three would be drawn.

A small gust of wind from nowhere flipped over two more cards, before the deck recompiled and flew into the leather pouch. Then, like it had never been there, the pouch faded into nothingness.

The statue that was Harry Potter would lie on the ground for an hour before the next Gryffindor to rise would see it and scream for help.

AN: This idea for a story in the Potter-verse just came to my mind after reading my old D&D 3.5 books. A power the Dark Lord knows not? Screw that; let's give Harry an encounter with a Deck Of Many Things instead.

As of right now, I'm of two minds if to continue with this or not. I've been toying with a rewrite to my Third Great War fic, not to mention the Turning of the Wheel. Both are woefully inadequate and I'm a bit disappointed with both. And there are several ideas churning in my head, such where this might lead along with a Mass Effect/SG-1 crossover.

As usual, comments and suggestion are appreciated. And if you wan't me to roll with this one, I'll give my muse big kick to the hiney and push it to work.


End file.
